


We fit together

by Llama_and_Lion



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hair, M/M, Plaiting, Slow Build, braiding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9203366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_and_Lion/pseuds/Llama_and_Lion
Summary: A sequence of events that bring Yuri and Otabek closer together (though the power of hair).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [msspook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/msspook/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to the lovely aphhun who is always willing to gush about Otayuri with me. Please go and read their beautiful Otayuri fics (they are some of the best)!
> 
> This work is unbeta'd bc I'm a pro.

Otabek was always one to ask permission to do anything, he often found it very rude when people just did as they pleased or were quick to draw assumptions. Though he was only being polite, the gesture seemed to have become foreign to some people. Yuri was no different, he was loud and obnoxious, spoke without thinking and acted on impulse. They were quite opposites in as many ways as you could think, but that hadn't stopped them from forming a sturdy friendship at last years Grand Prix final. As much as they were different from one another, in just as many ways they were alike. Both of them were driven and passionate about skating. These ambitions and dreams had formed the foundations of their relationship, all of which Otabek had asked for.

So when the two of them are draped across the bed in the Khazaks hotel room, Yuri's golden locks (the same colour as the medal around his neck) splayed across the pillow, Otabek feels the sudden urge to reach out and touch it. True to his nature, since the gesture might seem a little out of place Otabek (full of Dutch courage) asks.

"Yuri?" An affirmative hum sounds across the mattress between them (truthfully they are both a little tipsy). "Can I...may I touch your hair?" Otabek stumbles about the words suddenly realising just how odd the request sounds.

"Huh? Are you being serious Beka?" The indignant noise rises from the blond. Yuri sounds, flustered? Otabek stares at the ceiling a blush burning his cheeks. He's really messed it up now, Құдай what was he thinking asking to...

"Alright, knock yourself out," and Otabek is more than slightly surprised that the small Russian boy hasn't kicked him in the shins already. Otabek takes his chance before his friend changes his mind.

Reaching up, he gently picks up one of the shoulder length locks and lets it slip between his fingers. It's impossibly fine and silky, and far softer than Otabek had imagined (not that he would admit to anyone that he had often though about how Yuri's hair would feel against his skin). Otabek allows himself to savour the feeling of liquid gold slipping from his grasp for a moment before pulling away. He tries not to think about how his hand still tingles even after the feeling has long since departed. The two of them lie there in silence, stretching out between them like an ocean, and before Otabek can find the words to fill it up Yuri drops a stone in the water.

"So?" And it takes Otabek a few seconds to figure out what Yuri is asking when oh...Otabek considers his reply.

"Meh," he replies. Ah, there was the kick in the shins he was expecting. The two of them laugh and what tension there was between them evaporates.

-x-

Yuri, as afore mentioned, was used to taking what he wanted. It had been a long time since anyone had said 'no' to him about anything.

He was pretty annoyed about the fact he had to perform at the gala at first. It was just for some high up in the Russian government, but all the Grand Prix finalists had been invited to perform, which meant, Otabek was going to be there. Their schedules hadn't given them any time to see each other before the event was over, though they texted each other every minute they could spare.

After their performances however, they were free to do as they pleased. Otabek had hired a motorbike earlier in the day, so they change into their normal clothes and head out across the city. Its a warm May evening, the sun dipping just below the horizon, casting out an orange hue. They are heading nowhere in particular. It's been a while since the two of them have taken a bike ride around the places they've been competing, one or the other having to rush off to catch a flight most of the time. In the time that has passed since their last ride Yuri has grown several inches. Whereas before, Yuri can remember pressing his face into the space between Otabek's shoulder blades and the scent of the soft leather jacket, it's now much more comfortable to rest his chin on the older boys shoulder and watch the road ahead rush towards them.

There is a tickling sensation against his cheek and neck. Pulling back a little to see what the source of it is Yuri notices Otabek's undercut is in need of a trim, peeking out from under his helmet. It only noticeable really because Yuri is sitting so close to him. The dark brunet fading into tanned skin, radiating heat. Almost before he realises what he's doing, Yuri has unwrapped one of his arms from around Beka's waist and is stroking the soft fuzz on the back of his neck. It's divine, Yuri can feel the warmth of Otabek's skin beneath his fingertips. Then again, against the grain of the hair which gives it an altogether different texture, rough, poking his fingertips like tiny blunt needles. Yuri goes to stroke it again when he notices how tense Otabek's neck feels, and suddenly becomes aware of how stiff to older boys shoulders are. Hastily he returns his arm back to around Otabek's waist and is glad that his friend can't see his fierce blush. Otabek doesn't mention it when they stop to get food, and Yuri sure as hell isn't going to bring it up, so both boys resign to pretending that the whole incident never happened.

-x-

It had been Otabek's idea that they should hang out in the off season. It was nice being able to spend time together without the weight of competition hanging over them. Neither of them were training as hard as they usually did so Otabek came to St. Petersberg to stay for the week. Much of their time had been taken up with the sightseeing Otabek had wanted to do (Yuri was only too glad to be his guide) and going to the rink for light practice. It's still early in the evening when they order takeout and stick on some random movie. Yuri has gotten into the habit of sitting on the floor while eating (the custom still lingering from his time in Japan so long ago). Empty cartons litter the small coffee table and Yuri leans back against Otabek's legs. The silence between them is comfortable, their friendship far more stable now than it's timid beginnings.

However, Otabek finds himself struggling to concentrate on the film. His Russian is getting better from hanging around with Yuri (and knows more swears than he will ever need to use) but the dialogue is fast paced and Otabek finds himself struggling to keep up. Yuri is leaning up against his left leg, head resting gently on Otabek's knee. For once, Yuris hair is not pulled into a ponytail as it so often is these days. It hangs effortlessly, ending about halfway down his shoulder blades, a slight curl gives some texture to the length. Otabek is very aware of the fact that he has lost all interest in the plot of the movie, far more enamoured by the golden locks draped on the sofa cushion. Deciding what to do next comes surprisingly naturally. He prods Yuri in the back to get the younger boys attention. Yuri looks up at him, only seeming fractionally annoyed.

"What?"

"May I braid your hair?" Otabek asks smoothly. Yuri's mouth hangs open for a moment before regaining composure. He frowns.

"Do you even know how to braid?" Yuri inquires, if only a little in disbelief. The Kazakh boy hums in response.

"I do it for my little sister sometimes. She even goes out on dates with them still in her hair so I can't be that bad?" Otabek is still looking down expectantly, at which point Yuri remembers he hasn't answered the older boys question.

"Okay, go for it, whatever." He shrugs and pretends to turn his attention back to the film.

To start with, Otabek combs though Yuri's hair with his fingers, the few slight tangles don't lessens the overall silken feel of it. He starts with a loose fishtail down the right side of Yuri's head, pulling the strands out a little after each turn so that they loop and don't lie flat to his scalp. It's a little difficult because Otabek is used to his sisters coarser hair, whilst Yuri's is so smooth the strands run parallel with hardly any friction. He finishes the braid somewhere close to the base of Yuri's neck, and studies it. It looks messy and, for some reason, he doesn't want Yuri to see it, so Otabek quickly combs the braid though (it falls out easily) and repeats the process. It looks much better when he's finished this time so does the same to the other side of Yuri's head so both braids meet at the back. Otabek swipes a hair tie off the arm of the sofa (there is no end of hair ties lying around Yuri's apartment) and carefully secures the plaits in place.

Otabek's hands have returned his lap when Yuri stirs, the absence of the tentative, affectionate touch is noticeable. He tilts his head back to look at the dark haired boy, grinning.

"Can I look now?" Yuri asks quietly. Something warm flickers in Otabeks chest as he nods. The younger boy pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns the camera on, studying the new hairstyle closely. Then beaming, he turns to Otabek, "These are great! Hold on, let me get a photo for Instagram," he hops up onto the sofa and presses himself to Otabeks side, ensuring they are both in the picture. The flicker of warmth however, is currently spreading throughout Otabek's torso, which he hopes Yuri can't feel pressed up against him. Luckily Yuri pulls away to type out a caption for the photo.

Needless to say the post goes viral.

A few days later they mutually decide to spend the majority of their day training at the rink, it's fun to have someone to talk to whilst going over basic step sequences until they are ingrained in muscle memory (it's boring work). They are both exhausted as they head back to Yuri's apartment. There is a slight chill to the air, making the sweaty clothes uncomfortably cool against Otabek's skin. As soon as they stumble through the door, Otabek calls dibs on the shower (much to Yuri's annoyance) and dumps his gear in the hallway, grabbing a towel and a clean set of clothes on his way to the bathroom.

His hair goes slick as the hot water washes over him, stripping away the products and the effects of straightening.

He is in the process of shampooing out the gel when Otabek realises three things simultaneously. One, his hair gel and straighteners are in the hall in his kit bag. Two, to get to the hall you have to go through the kitchen, where Yuri is heating up dinner, and three, Yuri has never seen Otabek's natural hair.

In fact, he's not entirely sure why the latter fact bothers him so much, as he steps out of the shower and dries himself off. Sometimes Otabek forgets that the majority of their friendship has played out over Skype rather than in person, so it makes sense that Yuri wouldn't know what his natural, non-product loaded hair looks like. Still, it irks him that such a plain fact about himself is relatively secret. Shrugging off the thought, Otabek throws on the clean sweats and towels his hair until the curls are only slightly damp.

Yuri is busy setting the table, which consists of some haphazardly thrown down cutlery, a jug and two glasses. He's just turning round after taking two plates from the cupboard opposite the door where Otabek is leaning against the frame-

"What the-!" He exclaims gripping the plates with white knuckles as he almost drops them. His heart is doing something funny as he stares, open mouthed, at his friend across the room. The soft curls do something to Otabek's silhouette that makes him look taller, older, more, _attractive?_. One curl in particular has strayed, sticking out at a peculiar angle perpendicular to the rest.

Yuri puts the crockery down with a little more force than is strictly necessary before closing the distance between them. He reaches up and smooths down the loose curl. Otabek's hair is still a little damp and _ludicrously_  soft. The damp quality turns it a shade or two darker than its usual colour as he runs his fingers through the ringlets. He notices how, once free from his pull, the curls bounce back to their natural shape, resting with perfect placement.

Yuri doesn't notice that Otabek is blushing.

"Um, I didn't have the chance to straighten my hair," he mutters, while Yuri continues patting his head.

"Good," Yuri quips back, though still slightly bewildered at the fact that Otabek has curly hair. _When did this happen?_  Otabek chuckles, and Yuri's petting stills.

"I thought that you were supposed to be the kitten?" And Yuri feigns offence before punching him in the shoulder.

-x-

Due to the fact the the competitors village is only two thirds of the way built by the time the Winter Olympics come to Pyeongchang, there is a shortage of rooms and the need for some participants to double up. Yuri would be considerably more outraged had he not been lucky enough to be paired with Otabek (though Yuri thinks that since their friendship is becoming something of an internet sensation, that might've been taken into consideration). The rooms are a little cramped since they had only been built to accommodate one person living there for two weeks but they manage not to step on each other's toes too much.

During the competition, Yuri takes a pretty hefty fall during his free skate, not enough to injure himself, but enough to end any chance of taking the podium. For want of a better word, Yuri wants to sulk and forget all about the competition, but Otabek is up next (due to beating Yuri's short program score by several points). There is a distinct lack of Kazakh flags in the stadium, but the few supporters rack up a lot of noise. Yuri has spent enough time with the boy to see his determination grow with his improvement. He holds the attention of the audience and the judges throughout the beautiful free skate, and Yuri is ridiculously proud of his friend as he claims his Olympic gold. Somewhere in those four minutes, it quashes his own bitter disappointment.

They join the party after the closing ceremony. Though neither of them are overly sociable with the other skaters (apart from Victor and Yuuri) it's good to catch up with everyone. They stumble back to their room at two in the morning, four hours before Yuri is supposed to catch his flight back to St. Petersberg. Yakov and Lilia will have gathered his costumes and skates, but the majority of his clothes are still scattered across the floor. It takes them an hour to gather together all of Yuri's affects, and stuff them back into the suitcase. After throwing on the cleanest outfit he has left, Yuri sways with exhaustion as he lets his hair down with one hand while the other holds a brush. The golden locks now fall to the middle of his back, messy and tangled from dancing in the humid nightclub.

Otabek gently prizes the hair brush from Yuri's limp hand.  
"Brush my hair so I can sleep?" Yuri asks only half jokingly, but Otabek takes him up on the offer, sitting himself behind Yuri on the bed while the latter begins to drift off still sat upright.

Otabek gently starts to brush Yuri's wispy mane, working from the bottom up, carefully easing the knots from the younger boys hair. He does this from the ends to the scalp before brushing the whole section though. His slow, tentative method ensures that he doesn't accidentally hurt Yuri by pulling his hair. It's just as soft as he remembers, sectioning the silky top layer into a low ponytail at the back of Yuri's head (the style he knows the boy prefers to travel with). He twirls it between his fingers gently, cool against his own warm skin. He sighs as he prods the younger awake, he hates the lump that forms in his throat whenever they have to say goodbye.

-x-

Yuri is entirely convinced that Otabek is going to kill him during his short program. Otabek's laptop camera has been broken for the last three months which happened two months after they last saw each other in person. So while grainy Snapchat selfies were better than nothing, Yuri cant see how he missed it.

Five months prior, Otabek's hair had indeed been getting a little long, but that was nothing compared to how it looked now. All swept up on the crown of his head in a _manbun_ , and not just that, it's messy, with loose strands sticking out in all directions. Yuri can't stop his heartbeat from picking up at the sight. Then, _then_ , the goddamn music starts and those stray strands have a performance of their own, bouncing and flying with each twist, turn and quad. Yuri can't take his eyes off of the shine the ringlets have to them under the beautiful lighting Otabek has chosen for his short program. He's less refined than the other skaters as he nails the quadruple salchow, but it's full of power and strength. The music ends and Otabek is breathing hard, exhaustion quite apparent, the crowd cheering wildly at the flawless performance. He's waving with one hand as the other pulls the hair tie free, and Yuri is convinced that this is what dying feels like as his heart thuds louder in his chest. When the hair is set free it's a handsome dark chocolate mane, in its naturally curly state which Otabek sweeps back into a makeshift quiff, and Yuri is certain that it's the most goddamn sexy thing he's ever seen.

They have their arms around each other's shoulders while the press take their picture, and Yuri doesn't mind that the medal doesn't match the colour of his hair because, Yuri doesn't mind losing to Otabek.

Later they are stumbling though the corridors to find the lift to Yuri's floor. He's a little giddy and leans on Otabek more than he really needs too. Otabek doesn't seem to mind, pressing the button for the 13th floor. He can't help it, reaching up and burying his hand in the dark, curly locks. It's soft, cool in contrast to Otabek's warm scalp. Lazy curls fall across the older boys face from which calm eyes stare down at him.

"Do you ever..." he hiccups, "braid it?" Otabek looks a little baffled, Yuri continues twirling the ringlets around his fingers.

"No, I hadn't really thought about it," he replies, still not moving Yuri's hands off him. The doors to the elevator open and Yuri drags him down the hall to his room. It takes him a few tries to get the keycard in the slot but he manages it eventually. He pulls Otabek into the room before turning to face him.

"I'm going to braid you hair, yes?" It's more a statement than a question, so Otabek just shrugs and sits on the corner of the mattress. Yuri sets to work on it, the plait is simple, he keeps it loose too, so as not to lose the curls or its height. He ties it lazily then hops off the bed.

"Let me look at you," he says, pulling Otabek to his feet. With the hair tied back off his face, Yuri can trace the soft lines of Otabek's cheekbones with his eyes, watch dark eyelashes flutter, the strong cut of his jaw accentuated by the shadow cast by the dim light overhead. _He's handsome_ , his mind wanders, his hands are still gripped around Otabek's wrists and he notices how awfully close they are standing. He leans in, their foreheads are almost touching when Otabek grins an cocks an eyebrow.

"Is it my turn now?"

-x-

Yuri is coming to stay the week in Almaty and Otabek is pretty excited. Their schedules have been so hectic recently they haven't had much time to talk, so it's definitely a surprise when Otabek gets the 'I'm at the airport. Come pick me up' text.

Otabek takes the train since his motorbike won't be able to carry Yuri's luggage. In the arrivals hall he spots the blond wearing an oversized hoodie and signature skinny jeans. He waves at him. Yuri makes a gesture, bringing his hand to his face which (once Otabek is closer) he recognises as a finger to his lips. It's all Otabek can do not to sweep the boy into his arms as they stand in front of one another. Yuri grins from under the hood,

"Shh, I'm incognito," and gestures to the plain clothing. Otabek raises an eyebrow at the leopard print suitcase,

"Oh really?" Yuri punches him playfully in the arm before pulling him into a one armed hug. They catch the next train and Yuri, (exhausted from travelling) rests his head on Otabek's shoulder, dozing for most of the ride. Otabek gazes out across the cityscape, the streets he has called home for the last three years. Yet with the warm weight on his shoulder he feels as though he could travel all the way to the end of the line, past the station near his flat, past the industrial estates, right on out of the city, and beyond.

Because home was sitting next to him. Home had blond hair, slim fingers and loved cats. Home felt like swearing and punches that weren't supposed to hurt. Otabek wishes he could take Yuri's hands in his own and pull him closer, but there is already a woman giving them dirty looks across the carriage. He sighs, shakes himself from his thoughts and nudges the younger man awake as they near the station.

It's a short walk from the station to his flat. They walk in comfortable silence the only sound being the rattle of the suitcases wheels on the concrete. Otabek's abode is small, the kitchen, dining table and living space all crammed into one room, a basic bathroom, bedroom and small office. It's plain but perfectly amicable for his requirements. Yuri sheds the hoodie, hanging it on the coat rack.

"Sorry, I hadn't thought it might be inconvenient for me to come and stay," he apologises, picking at the hem of his t-shirt. There's something, _different_  about him but Otabek just can't quite put his finger on it. Otabek just smiles instead,

"Yuri, you are never an inconvenience to me. I am very glad to have you here," and pulls the blond into a hug. This one is much more relaxed. It's safer to show affection behind closed doors where no one else can see how well they slot together. Otabek can feel the imprint of empty space when they break apart.

Yuri talks nonstop for the best part of an hour, he was always better than him at filling up their silences, words coming to him easily while Otabek is content to just listen and nod in the right places. Otabek doesn't have much to say, or at least, he struggles to make a good story out of little moments like Yuri does. But that's okay, because they fit together, Yuri talks, Otabek listens, it works.

Otabek has his back turned, making tea while Yuri chatters on behind him. As it's brewing he turns back. Yuri is sitting on the comforter facing away from him and Otabek almost gasps aloud in surprise. In the time he has been looking the other way, Yuri has pulled his long hair up into a messy bun, exposing the back of his head where he has, _an undercut_. Impulsively, his feet moving before he has a chance to think, he reaches out and brushes his fingers against the fine, blond fuzz. It's so soft it tickles his skin and he can feel his own face flushing as he does so.

Yuri jumps slightly, turning round to see Otabek's flushed face before promptly blushing himself. There's a second or two of tense silence between them.

Yuri stands, coming round the chair to stand in front of Otabek.

"Do you like it?" He asks quietly. Otabek nods, words currently failing him. Yuri reaches out and takes his hand, slowly bringing it up to his face and then, stepping closer, guides Otabek's hand to cup the back of his head, the hair tickling his palms as it rests there.

It's like it is something they have always done when they kiss, mouths warm and chests pressed together. Otabek's hand travels across the newly discovered undercut and tangles in the long blond mane, pulling them closer with his other. Yuri's hands, one goes to his waist, skin prickling wherever there is a point of contact, the other buried deep in soft dark curls.

They fit together perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a lot longer than I expected. I hope that you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading :)


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